Songs of Mourning
by gaygaygaygaygay0
Summary: Grisha had taught him to respect the dead, Carla to sing for them. De-anon. More of a collection of micro!fills.


inspired by a lovely prompt on the snkkink meme and this beautiful song: youtu .be /pIZ4zGbD7w0  
**...**

Mikasa was shaking. She ran her hands down the back of the man she just killed. Fingers shyly rubbed the handle of the knife. She looked into the eyes of the boy under the man, the boy who had just saved her life, and she his. Questions of "who are you" and "what should we do?" died at her lips. She barely noticed when his voiced cracked the silence.

"Leave the knife. We'll get it back later." A small thud of the body being shifted and then hands on her back, startling her into standing. "You should leave," He urged, punctuating it with a gesture of his arm. Mikasa nodded slowly and stumbled towards the door. Her heart was racing, she just killed a man. Her mother and father were dead, where was she to go? What was she to do? She only stopped when she reached the door and realized the boy wasn't behind her.

Slim fingers drummed against the door before she turned, "Why aren't you coming?"

"I have to put their souls to rest."

This startled Mikasa a bit. A bit was actually an understatement, she expected something along the lines of hiding the bodies, not some outdated religious practice.

"Singing won't do anything. They're dead. My Dad told me that's only done by fanati-"

"Well your Dad's full of shit. " voice unwavering as he looked at Mikasa, waiting for her to walk out. When she made no moves to leave, he sighed, "Fine. Just don't interrupt me."

The boy stood up straight, and squared his shoulders. He took a deep breath and started singing. It was magical, his angry (almost demented) demeanor suddenly turned soft, almost sad. A chillingly beautiful voice filled the room and bounced off the walls. He sang in a language Mikasa didn't recognize, but she felt she knew what it meant. The song covered her like a veil, swaying her back and forth. A syllable was drawn out, his voice cracking mournfully. Emotion filled Mikasa, she knew he wasn't mourning their death, rather he was singing for the loss of their humanity. Hope was behind his words, she finally understood. He was hoping that their souls would move on; rebirth themselves into something better, and mourning that they couldn't in this life. Mikasa didn't realize she was crying until the song was over and a peaceful silence filled the room.

Quiet footsteps made her way towards her as the boy pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her. "Lets get going." Mikasa nodded, grasping now why he sang. She wished her father was alive to hear it, to understand that ino these songs were beautiful and/i and... Mikasa started crying again when she realized her father probably did hear it. She wished she could go to her house and sing it to him herself. She wished that she never had to hear that song. And that night, when Eren and Carla softly sang for her parents, she wished that her soul would be sung to when she died.

**...**

Violent sobs wracked Eren's body, causing Mikasa to tighten the blanket around them. Twinkling stars and a smiling moon did nothing to ease their pain. They had just lost everything. The boat swayed them back and forth softly, like a lullaby. Mikasa rested her head on Eren's shoulder, biting back tears. She just wanted to sleep, wanted this to all be over. She hated this life, her family just kept on dying. Sleep almost overtook her when she noticed faintly Eren had stilled. Mikasa buried her face in his shoulder, knowing what was coming.

His voice filled the air, making the world seem warm. Mikasa had heard Eren sing many times, with many different songs. He sung for his father's patients who couldn't make it, he had sung for neighbors and children and pets, but never had she heard a song this sad. Sometimes Eren would break into a small fit of sobs before continuing with his tune. Normally when Eren sang, people would scoff and roll their eyes. It was seen as an old superstition, something no one should practice anymore. But now everyone on the ship was deathly silent, listening intently to his words. Even if they couldn't understand him, the meaning broke through. Other voices began to join in the song, ones Mikasa had never heard before. She looked up and saw a woman holding a pair of shoes once worn by a small child, an elderly man who looked so utterly alone, children crying their verses. All their voices rang up and joined with Eren's, all mourning the loss of their loves and lives.

Mikasa noted, all these people looked similar to Eren, despite having never seen them before. Brown hair coupled with piercing eyes and olive skin, a variety of noses that were all similar in some way. Mikasa finally truly understood, more than she ever could have before. This singing, this beautiful passage of souls, was that of a culture. One forgotten and ignored, except by those who still live by it. Mikasa's family may have forgotten her original culture, but she could tell Eren would never leave his. Within the next year, Mikasa had Eren teach her all the songs and their meanings. It wasn't her job to do, but she wanted to understand him, to help him mourn.

She found herself softly singing these songs much too often.  
**...**

A velvety voice hung in the air, lyrics unknown but captivating. Levi closed his eyes and leaned closer to the wall, letting the music sink in. The Jäger boy had burst into song, Levi wasn't sure why, but he had a gut feeling. In his younger days, he knew a boy with bright blue eyes and dark skin, who would sing for all and any of the dead. It wasn't until the third verse that he recognized the song. Yes this was definitely a song of passing. In fact, this was the exact song his friend taught to him, the same one Levi had found himself singing nearly seventeen years ago.

Levi turned his head and scoffed, he couldn't believe he had gotten the lyrics wrong. He listened closer to Eren's words- trusting them to be correct- and yeah, he sang it wrong all those years ago. He mildly wondered if his friend's soul had even passed, with such a shitty excuse for a singer. The short man let out a sigh and a tight smile.

"Rest in peace, you bastard."  
**...**

Jean couldn't believe it. Sitting in front of him was a man who against all odd survived. The most pig-headed, idiotic, stubborn, and brave bastard he knew was alive, and he could almost cry from joy.

"Eren, I-"

Eren held up his hands, saying not now. Green eyes looked at the table before shifting around the walls and finally onto Jean's face. "Jean, I heard about Marco and I..." Eren's jaw clenched, "I know he was your best friend. You guys were like brothers. He was a hell've a good guy."

Jean didn't know how to react to this, Eren was being soft-spoken, caring, compassionate. If he had any on him, Jean would've thrown holy water onto Eren; possession was the only explanation for his behavior.

Well, even if he did have holy water, he didn't think he could aim correctly through all the tears.

"I... I want to sing a song. My mother taught me them all when I was very little. They're meant to pass a soul along, give them rest." Jean looked at the table and nodded. Almost everyone in a city had heard of this tradition in one way or another. They were some of the few sub-cultures that were left- most others had chosen to assimilate to the city life, forgetting what life was like before the walls. When he was small, Jean had sometimes heard this singing while walking with his mother, they'd pass by graveyards and hear their voices rising up. It was haunting; it was beautiful and Jean loved it. For a while, one of these women lived next to his house. She was old, and could barely walk on her own. He only ever heard her sing once, lovingly when her cat passed away. Months later when her body was found, Jean had a tender, sad realization that she had nobody left to sing for her.

While remembering this woman, Eren started softly. He was almost whispering, afraid if he was too loud the world would break. The blonde was grateful, and closed his eyes. He imagined all his comrades who had passed that day, their faces flashing in his head. Marco's face would linger the longest, before switching to the next girl or boy. Eventually the song was over, and Jean was crying again. Eren looked down, holding back tears. He didn't move when Jean grabbed his shoulder and squeezed it in a silent thank you. He still didn't look up when Jean stood and left the room.


End file.
